Nelle

Prologue: Before

Nelle heard her mother breathing in the dark. She wondered how many times her mother had rested beside her just like this when she was a child, listening to the deep inhalations and exhalations, counting each precious breath. Nelle traced the thin lines of light that streamed across the ceiling through heavy curtains. The gentle hum of The Cook and Chef echoed down the hall, only to be followed by the ugly clatter of plates as Dad unpacked the dishwasher in the kitchen. Mum's soft silhouette stirred. 

"What is that man doing?" Mum groaned.

Nelle rolled onto her side and she looked at the slope of her mother's narrow shoulders as they slumped forward, her arms, no doubt, curled towards her chest. Nelle's eyes rested on the thinning patch of hair on the back of her mother's head, the part Nelle knew she was self-conscious about. Mum had stopped brushing her hair a while ago because the bristles always pulled out clumps of hair.

Nelle reached out to gently rub her back. Passed flannel pyjamas, Nelle felt squidgy flesh and bone. Mum had become thinner, more fragile.

"Mmm...my back aches so much. That feels so nice, Nellie," she said.

"Do you feel better now that you've napped?" Nelle asked.

"A bit," she said, rolling over to face her daughter. Mum's cheeks were pink. Her tired dark eyes took in Nelle's face. Along her lash line were gaps where lashes should have been. Her brows were thin and uneven and yet her face was still warm and lovely.

"Were you sleeping next to mummy?" Mum asked, stroking Nelle's face. Nelle closed her eyes, ignoring how rough and papery Mum's hand felt against her cheek.

Nelle had been cooped up in her room, scrolling for a few hours before something told her she should spend some time with her mother. When she crept into the shadowy room Nelle smelled Dolce and Gabanna's The One, shortly followed by the smell of sick and hospital-grade hand sanitiser. She had quietly crawled in under the covers beside her. 

Mum leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose.

"How was last night?" she asked Nelle. 

"It was alright," Nelle said.

It had been cousin Julia's first birthday. Mum couldn't go because she was stuck in bed, nauseous and tired, as she was most days lately.

"They were asking about you. How you're going, all that." Nelle said.

"Still alive," she sang and Nelle laughed, snuggling closely against her until her forehead rest against her mother's chest. Nelle inhaled deeply and there was that comforting safe smell that was so distinctively motherly.

"Where's your stinky brother?" she asked.

"In his room," Nelle said looking up at her.

"Of course, he is," she said, she ran her fingers through Nelle's hair. "I hope he's cleaned that room of his. I nearly dry-retched when I went in there the other day."

Mum stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes, pretending to hurl. Nelle laughed again and shook her head. How Mum managed to still have a sense of humour amazed her.

"Did Julia like her present?" she asked, playing with her daughter's hair as she talked.

"Loved it. She was playing with the toy you got her the whole time," Nelle said.

Mum grinned that big, bright smile.

"My baby. I can't wait to get better and just play with Julia. I'm gonna buy her so many presents and then we can take her to the park or to the zoo like you wanted..." she went on and Nelle smiled.

"Once this bitch pisses off, we're gonna hop to it," she said.

This "bitch" she referred to was cancer.

Today was March 5th which marked the four-year anniversary of her diagnosis. This was the third time it had come back. Mum was on week 12 of her 18-week chemotherapy cycle, and it had really taken a toll this time around.

"Yep," was all Nelle could muster.

It won't go away this time said a cruel voice in the back of her mind. Nelle hugged her tighter, embracing her mother's warm soft body, committing it to memory.

"What are you gonna wear to your graduation, Nelle?" she asked.

Nelle didn't want to think about what lay ahead of her once she graduated university. 

"I don't know yet," she said.

"When I get better, we'll hit the shops and I'm going to buy you a gorgeous dress," Mum said, pushing her daughter's long curly hair over her shoulder. "You'll be beautiful."